


A Warrior's Prize

by Cousin Shelley (CousinShelley)



Category: Gladiator (2000)
Genre: Dubious Consent, Fuck Or Die, M/M, Rough Oral Sex, Spitroasting, Threesome - M/M/M, Yuleporn, Yuletide Treat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-24
Updated: 2014-12-24
Packaged: 2018-03-03 05:42:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2840105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CousinShelley/pseuds/Cousin%20Shelley
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Commodus orders the gladiators to conquer one another outside the arena.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Warrior's Prize

**Author's Note:**

  * For [gloria_scott](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gloria_scott/gifts).



> Happy holidays!

Maximus sat on the stone bench and looked down at his feet, silently redoubling his vow for revenge. How did such a fine man produce such waste as Commodus?

“It’s to punish us. For existing, I suppose,” Juba said. He stood in front of Maximus, arms crossed. “It’s a weak man’s game because his real weapons are so few.”

Maximus looked up at his friend. “Few? He _rules_.”

“Oh, he has all the broadswords and the spears he can order men to fashion for him. But the real weapons, the warriors--the people--in their hearts, they don’t belong to him.” Juba put his hand on Maximus’ shoulder. “And you would be the one telling me this under different circumstances.”

A door slammed, and the scuffle of feet, someone struggling to free himself, perhaps more than one, drew closer. The volume of shouts and calls grew louder. Maximus nodded sadly.

“As always, you’re right. But you know this is all because of me. His hatred of me. He wants more than to punish. He wants us to feel defeated. Demoralized.”

Commodus, cowardly sadist that he was, had decreed that they should all be “rewarded” for their strength and prowess in the arena. An order was given for them to conquer one another outside the arena. To fuck. No one was exempt from it, and the command was for those who were unwilling to have to fight off those would have them, and have their aggressors in their turn, if they won.

“Fight, then fuck. Claim a warrior’s prize,” Commodus had said, that simpering half-smile on his face. He didn’t even want to watch, just to know which men were the ones penetrated and forced to service the others.

No doubt he hoped that Maximus might be jumped by an entire crowd. But he underestimated the kind of loyalty Maximus commanded among men, even these.

“Come,” Juba said. “We will not be defeated or demoralized. We will not allow it, simply because _he_ wishes it.”

They walked together into the next chamber, seeing no point in delaying the inevitable. Most men looked at Maximus, the agreement in their eyes that this night would not go as Commodus surely expected. There were some, new and loyal to no one, who approached Maximus and Juba as if they might attempt to overpower one or both. They did not get as far as a single blow before backing away, looking for other prey.

“You turned them away with a look. Perhaps Commodus should trade some of his swords for the fierceness in your eyes next time land or people need defending,” Juba whispered, his familiar laugh soothing Maximus.

He turned to Juba, reached up and cupped the back of his neck. The moment they’d heard the order, they understood that one of the ways to avoid Commodus’ fight then fuck decree was to simply fuck by agreement. He wasn’t opposed to it, though he silently asked his wife to understand. It wasn’t as if he’d never hardened at the sight of a strong back and chest ending in narrow hips. This would not be difficult.

It was the purpose of the order that soured it in his mind. And Juba knew that. But they also knew they didn’t have much choice if they wanted to avoid whatever consequence Commodus had in mind for those who refused to participate. It was already because of him such an order had been given. He didn’t want to heap a worse fate on his brothers’ heads.

Juba held out a tatter of cloth and turned to face the wall. Another unspoken agreement that Maximus was prepared to argue now, when he thought of what might be the fate of those deemed weaker, taken like women. A cry from a far corner drew their attention.

The two men who had approached them earlier now held both arms of a man Maximus did not know.

“Servius,” Juba said. “Says his mother’s new husband dislikes him, and managed to send him here to be rid of him so he could claim everything for himself.”

Maximus approached to see the man, younger than most others there, struggling to free himself, while a third man tried to pull his legs apart. It was obvious he wasn’t an experienced fighter.  Whomever sent him had to know he wouldn’t survive a single battle.

“He’s ours,” Maximus said. If Servius was to die a bloody death in the arena, at least Maximus could spare him the indignity of being raped first. Juba stepped up to Maximus’ side, never questioning him, ready to have his back.

“And what if _I_ want him?” the largest of the three men said, standing close enough to Maximus that their chests touched. It appeared he wouldn’t be sent away with a look a second time.

“Then you’ll have to beat _me_. And _your_ hole will be my spoils if I win.”

One of the others rasped into the man’s ear. “He defeated Tigris of Gaul.”

Maximus thought they were going to have to fight, but after a few strong words with no meat to back them up, they tossed Servius in their direction. He jerked away from Maximus when he took Servius’ arm..

Juba put a hand on his shoulder. “Calm yourself. Neither of us are going to hurt you.”

“If you think you’re going to fuck me--”

“I think,” Maximus said, taking his arm again and pulling him away from the crowd, “that you are going to make a decision to lie with us over fighting them off and losing.”

Servius was well-built, but not large. His dark eyes shone with fear and defiance. “And if I fight you? Will _my_ hole be your spoils?”

Maximus and Juba looked at each other. Juba smiled. “We won’t fight you, unless you’d like to try to mount one of _us_. You’re welcome to go back over there and fight whomever you wish.”

Juba slid a hand down Servius’ arm. “There is no need for this to be unpleasant. I could find pleasure in it, even if only to spite Commodus.”

“But we have nothing but spit,” Servius protested. “There will be pain.”

Maximus tilted his head to the side. “Have you known the touch of a man before?”

Servius nodded, his cheeks flaring.

“This will help ease the way.” Juba held up the small, ragged piece of cloth that was slightly damp with oil.

Someone, definitely not Commodus, had taken a sort of pity on them. It had been torn into small pieces, and Juba had caught one when they had been thrown into the group. It wasn’t as good as a cask of oil, but it would have to do.

“You caught the cloth, so I suppose the finest spoils should be yours,” Maximus said, as he sat down on a stone and motioned Servius to him. Knowing that the man had been penetrated before set him at ease, and had served to harden him. Perhaps he should feel guilty for his idea, his eagerness for it. But, his wife forgive him, he did not.

“Suck,” he said, pulling himself out and feeling a sense of pride at the wide eyes regarding him.

Servius looked at the group of men nearby, at the pairs and groups of three, busy doing what he was about to do. Then he looked back at Maximus, and he sucked.

Maximus closed his eyes and let his head rest back against the stone wall, taking deep, slow breaths through his nose. The rhythm changed, so he opened his eyes to see Juba stroking Servius’ bare flank. Juba rubbed the cloth on his hand, and squeezed a folded corner with his fingers, then his fingers disappeared into Servius’ backside.

The suck increased, Maximus’ legs spreading apart a little more.

“I’ll save some for you,” Juba said, holding up the piece of cloth. He smiled, then stroked his hand down his long, thick cock.

Maximus wondered how it would feel when Juba pressed into Servius. How it would feel if Maximus were the one on his hands and knees. How it would feel for Juba’s mouth or his hole to surround Maximus now, as Servius’ lips did.

Those thoughts set a fire deep in his belly. He thrust into Servius’ mouth, watched the darkened skin of his cock slide against his stretched lips. Then he met Juba’s eyes over Servius’ back. Their mouths dropped open together as Juba pressed into the body between them and let his head loll to the side as if he might be unable to hold it up. Servius groaned around Maximus’ cock.

True to his word that they weren’t going to hurt him, Juba moved slowly and carefully. Maximus wished, now with a little guilt, that he wasn’t quite as careful. Not to hurt him, no, but to feel Servius’ tongue slide against him as he was filled again and again. He wanted to feel the jarring thrusts through the mouth on his cock.

Juba rocked back and forth, easing into him. Finally, he thrust and slapped into Servius’ body with his own, fully seated within him. The way Servius sucked when he was fully impaled pulled a cry from Maximus.

Juba’s head fell back, a smile showing most of his teeth. He rolled the oiled cloth into a ball and threw it to Maximus. “If I don’t give it to you now . . . you may have to fight me for it later. This is . . . .”

He pulled back and thrust forward again, drawing another cry from Servius, whether pleasure, pain or both, Maximus didn’t know. Nearly didn’t care.

“Is he tight? Warm?”

“Like a sheath for the sword. And he’s hard,” Juba said, as he reached beneath Servius to stroke him. He thrust slowly, but hard enough that Servius jerked forward a little each time.

“He gives good suck,” Maximus groaned. Each time Juba slapped into Servius, each time he stroked his cock, Servius seemed to almost swallow Maximus’ cock. His tongue twisted around the shaft constantly,unless it was wrapped around the head. He’d definitely known the touch of a man, many times.

Juba thrust harder, watching himself slide in and out of the tight body, then watching Servius’ mouth, then meeting Maximus’ eyes. When this happened, both tensed, thrusting with more purpose.

“You’re splitting me in two.” Servius pulled away and turned his head. “ _Easy_.”

Juba leaned back, then spit on his exposed cock. He grabbed Servius’ hips and plunged home. Servius hissed, but it must have been easier to take, as he protested no more. He turned back to his task, and Maximus sank both hands into his hair to keep him there. Servius pushed against Maximus’ thighs, not to get away, nothing quite so frantic. It seemed he was testing his limits, and when he found that Maximus held him firm on his cock, he simply rested his hands there and did his best to take what he was given.

The rhythmic bump that pushed Servius against his knees, that jostled the lips around his cock, rocked Maximus to the edge, the fire in his belly ready to flare and then scatter. His fingers tightened in Servius’ hair, and he pulled the mouth onto him harder and faster. Servius’ tongue and lips kept up.

Servius bounced against him faster as Juba became lost in pleasure. Their eyes met over the man’s back, and as Servius shouted around his cock, Maximus felt Juba release. He could feel it in the waves rocking through Servius’ body directly to his cock, and in the lax expression on Juba’s face. Servius’ pleasure seemed to draw it from Juba, and both of theirs forced Maximus’ to reach his peak.

He growled and pulled Servius hair, the man coughing and gagging around him at first, then still trying to suck. He fucked Servius’ mouth the way Juba fucked his hole, both drawing it out as long as they could, and the weighted look that passed between them promised that this pleasure need not be the only one they indulged before morning.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
